With Eleanor’s help, I slowly stood, still trembling from the cold.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asked.
“Not really,” I admitted. “But I will be.”
She wrapped me in her warmth and guided me into her car.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To my house,” she said. “We’ll deal with everything tomorrow.”
As we drove through the storm, Eleanor took my hand.
“Emma, you don’t have to go back to him.”
Her words broke through the fear I’d been carrying for so long.
“I just needed someone to tell me that,” I whispered.
“You’re strong,” she said. “And you’re not alone.”
When we arrived at her estate, her staff immediately brought me dry clothes, warm tea, and blankets.
Sitting beside the fire, I finally felt safe.
Eleanor looked at me calmly.
“Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, we deal with Michael.”
For the first time in a long time, I believed everything was going to be okay.